


Dysphoria

by bellaliemy



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Trans Character, Transphobia, ftm matt bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 14:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11991852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaliemy/pseuds/bellaliemy
Summary: Puberty's a bitch.





	Dysphoria

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for strong language, slurs, suicidal thoughts, and other crap. This is probably the fastest I've ever written anything.

Puberty’s a bitch. Everyone knows that. What I mean to tell you is, puberty was a _real_ mess of a bitch to me. I never much liked the way I was, I was always shorter and skinnier than all the other guys, but it didn’t much bother me until _it_ happened. It’s not that I didn’t _know_ it was coming. I just choose not to think of it, I mean, I was too happy to think of the shitstorm ahead. Everything was alright in those days, not always perfect, but it was enough for me, just being one of the guys. Me and my mates Chris and Tom would play football in the streets, just shirtless and happy kids, until the neighbors shooed us away. Even then, we’d stay out til dusk kicking the ball around. Only then would we return to Chris’s home, giddy from who knows what, was it just the sheer joy of youth? It was total bliss. I could live in the present, without pressure from anyone to conform to anything. I would stay for hours, long after Tom left, joking with Chris as we played video games long into the night. As we got older, Chris would always talk of his plans for the future, how he wanted to be a veterinarian, but it was too gay, wasn’t it, Chris would say. That’s what all the girls want to be, Chris said. And then it slipped, I almost didn’t hear it, he muttered so quietly. _You should know._ Thinking back, I know he didn’t mean any harm by it, but it stung, it really did.

See? Even my happiest memories are tainted. No rest for the weary, they say. And I am so fucking sick of this. My body is my greatest vice, you’d think it’d be otherwise. Ever since _it_ happened, I can’t look at myself without feeling nauseous. These things, these awful _breasts_ , didn’t grow overnight, I know, I’m not a total idiot, but the first time it truly got to me, I wanted to die. The first day of high school had just ended, and I wanted, needed a game or two to get rid of the stress of new faces. I always am terrible in new groups of people, and Chris wasn’t in any of my classes. I felt lost without him, he was always _there_ , but now he was at a different school. As normal, I went to Chris’s house for some football. Instead of Tom’s usual blue bike in the yard, there was another bike, an unfamiliar yellow one with blue floral pattern. I thought Tom had simply gotten a new one, I was so clueless. Naively, I barged in, taking off my shirt and balling it so I had a projectile to throw at Tom for his gay ass bike. Briefly, I wondered why they weren’t already outside as I started shouting for them. That’s when I bumped into her. I couldn’t give you her name even if you threatened to rip out my eyeballs. What I do remember, however, is the absolute horrid _glare_ she gave me when she saw me, naked to her eyes. And the scream, oh god, the scream haunts my nightmares still today. You woulda thought I was murdering her with my nudity. Chris came barreling into the room, as if he was expecting a texas chainsaw massacre remake in his hallway. His lips were swollen, and it didn't take much for me to guess what they had been up to. I still remember the way how he looked at me, then _her_ , and then back to me. But he wasn’t really looking at me, no, he was looking more so at those awful growths on my chest. I could see fear in his eyes. _Matty, you should maybe put your shirt back on_ , he said. That’s when it really got to me. Before that moment, I never gave a single damn about what people thought. But things changed then and there. Automatically, I threw the shirt back on, all the while running, no, _sprinting_ away from that house. I wanted to scream, punch someone, rip off my own goddamn chest. I wound up by the river, god knows I didn't have the strength to face my mother then. She's a bit less understanding than most, even now. Chris was always my escape from her.

Staring at the water, I stood there for quite some time. I don't remember how long, but I know it was dark by the time I chickened out. Lemme tell you, I was prepared to end it in that river. Death seemed better than ever facing Chris again, but I don't know what stopped me. I really don't. The water was suddenly waist deep and it was dark as shit, and all I thought was how Chris looked so damn scared. It killed me, to see him scared of me, to have to rescue that girl from me like I was some sort of monster. I really wanted to kill myself then, and I honestly _should_ have gone through with it, cause this sort of shit is my everyday. I mean, Chris and I are friends again, shit, I think might even love him, but it took a while and he definitely dropped that bitch. Still, I get looks all the time, looks that say _who's that dyke over there?_ and scream _look at that fucking tranny, it's a real shame she's so confused._ And I hate it, it really gets to me sometimes, that I can't just escape it. I’m not even sure I can trust Chris sometimes, with memories like these. I know, I know, he's changed, but still, the movie theater in the back of my head loves to rewind these moments for me. It’s kinda difficult to be a guy when you're shorter, skinnier, weaker, and a whole ton more female than you signed up for.

 

I told ya, puberty’s a real motherfucking bitch.

 


End file.
